The Royale with Cheese
by HotSpatulaOnFire
Summary: Spencer has the answer to life in films and he chooses to reveal it to Sam. She will learn she loves everything from True Romance to Inglourious Basterds, but so does Freddie. Oh, mierda.
1. Pulp Free Food

I stand at shoulder level of the brother who is somewhere between an artist who cannot lie and a brother I wish I shared DNA with. His name is Spencer Shay and he's asking me something, "Do you know who Quentin Tarantino is?"

I don't understand why he's asking, but I respond anyway, "Yeah, I guess, he did _Reservoir Dogs_, that was a sausage fest."

"Yes, he did and _Pulp Fiction_. That's the movie I want to talk to you about." He picks up darts for his newest creation as he finishes speaking.

"I've never seen that movie."

"Ah!" Spencer screams and throws the darts in the air; I decide to hide under the table to avoid the spray of darts. "Ow! Ow! Not a good place!" Spencer screams, again.

"Spencer! Stop throwing darts in the air!" Thank God for Carly Shay.

"It's not my fau-" Carly cuts him off, "I don't care, just stop throwing darts, it's not safe."

"But Carly," Carly has an expression plastered on her face that is usually found on mine when telling people not to test me because I don't feel like speaking. "Thank you Spencer," she speaks as she walks away.

I climb out from underneath the table to find a Spencer swatting at the ceiling to prevent darts from harming him further. "I'm not helping you with that."

"And you don't need to!" Not the reaction I expected. I puff my cheeks out in order to make the noise a "w" does, but Spencer blurts out, "Because you are going to sit on the couch, to watch _Pulp Fiction_, you need to hear the conversations about cheeseburgers for me to talk to you!"

As Spencer manages enough strength to shot put me to the couch I yell, mid-air albeit, "Holy shit! How'd you do that?" As soon as the words fly out of my mouth Spencer throws all the food I usually steal from the apartment at me: fat cakes, ham, leftover spaghetti tacos, all the carbonated beverages in the fridge, and other various foodstuffs.

I get over the initial shock of being shot put by a wimpy twenty something and get angry at Spencer _because_ he shot put me. "Spencer!"

He quickly starts the movie. No previews, no main menu, just the first scene. On other occasions, I wouldn't have minded the previews or the main menus. I was already mad he was wasting my time and he knew it, I assume that was the reason he skipped it all. Assuming doesn't make an ass out of you and me when you're somewhat of an ass and 100% sure.

The movie sucks me in from the first conversation by the couple holding a robbery to the second Spencer stops the movie as a conversation about quarter-pounders with cheese starts. It's a very daring move, if not hazardous to his health, but I command him, "Tell me why the hell you would stop the movie!"

"First of all; this is the scene I really want you to concentrate on watching so we can talk about it later. And secondly; this is Freddie's favorite scene, but he had to pee, so I paused it."

"When did he get here, and who invited him? I don't think anyone wanted him here, and I certainly don't care if Fredward was about to piss his pants, but I do care that you paused it and you will pay for it."

"He was sitting next to you, I'm pretty sure you'd have cared if he urinated."

"Do you really want to test me?" I'm sure the simple eye contact is close to making him scream and run away; I can see the fear in his eyes, even if the fear is irrational.

His face sinks and his lips purse, "I really don't want to test you. But if you didn't use your Jedi mind tricks-" my glare stops his speech.

I wait a few seconds before speaking, "I didn't notice him come in."

I hear a toilet flush and Fredweird's voice ooze sarcasm, "Oh that hurts me deeply."

"Could you please shut your all-knowing, privileged, entitlement whore mouth up?" He opens his mouth to object, but I cut him off with "Yeah, I do think you're all of those things even though your holiness doesn't. And I do know big words, so shut your mouth you dirty liar."

"What? I _know_ I'm none of those things. Also, if anyone here is an entitlement whore, it would be you, Sam, Miss High-and-Mighty herself, you think you're entitled to anything you want."

I resolve to stand, just as Fredward is. I know this argument will escalate to something much more violent than it is currently, which makes me want to finish _Pulp Fiction_. "If you don't shut your mouth, I'll cut your larynx out."

He maneuvers himself to a better fighting position, "Sam, that's a horrible threat, not that I don't believe you would do it, and I'm quite sure it's illegal."

I advance toward him, I can see fear move to his eyes. I am thoroughly impressed that I can strike fear into most of the people I know with such ease. "Like I've never committed a crime."

I haven't even hit him yet and he's flailing his arms and yelping, "No crime that severe!"

I hear clanging pots and pans. I know it's just Spencer, but my enemy's back is turned to Spencer and the enemy lets out a shriek worthy of the scream queen herself. I can't help but laugh at him, well both of them actually. I collapse onto the couch due to my uncontrollable laughter.

Freddork pouts like a little girl and flops down on the couch. As soon as his ass makes contact with the upholstery, Spencer skips through the living room to start the movie, "Now that both of ya'lls are sitting down, you can watch the movie."

"Both means two, where's Carly?" I inquire before the cheeseburger conversation has a chance to resume.

"She doesn't like Quentin Tarantino; she thinks he's too violent. Now, shh, watch the movie." He doesn't get a chance to press play before the dork to my right speaks in complete shock, "She doesn't like Quentin Tarantino?" Spencer shakes his head and whines a little before the nub starts up again, "How can she not love him?"

"I don't know just watch the movie little Freddie child." I can sense the desperation, but I like toying with people so I let out a little comment of my own, "Something has to be wrong with her to not like these films."

"I can't love her if she doesn't like Tarantino, he makes all the women so strong and independent, isn't that what she is. Maybe not exactly like The Bride, but that's Sam's job," I don't believe him.

"Ok, start the movie up Spence!" I command and he eagerly follows instructions.

"I'm sorry Spencer, but I don't love your sister anymore." Spencer will soon have a heart attack from all this.

"That's fine Freddie, just let me play the movie and afterward you can speak as much as you want, just let Sam watch the movie."

"Yeah Freddifer!" I agree with Spencer for the first time this week over something other than food intake.

Spencer has the honors to press play and everything goes well until Jules gets his wallet back, then the fight between the dork and I resumes. None other than yours truly throws the first punch, but I can hear a stifled sob coming from the kitchen. The opportunity to see a crying Spencer in the fetal position far outweighs a fight between a dork and me. "What's wrong Spencer?" A bruised dork asks.

"Oh, I just wish we could all coexist."

"Yeah, I've got nothing to say to that, except maybe if you gave me money I might not hurt Benson."

"Ok, I will because the world is usually brighter when you two aren't fighting in my apartment." Spencer hands me a twenty from his back pocket, folded just like Spence was.

"I'll let that slide because you introduced me to the greatness that it is _Pulp Fiction_."

I'm halfway to the door when Spencer speaks up again, "Take Freddo with you to go see the new Tarantino movie and only then will I let you in on the secret of life I have found hidden in the cheeseburger conversation."

I want to see Spencer in a better mood so I comply, "Come on Nub-Nub, I'm in the mood to see some World War II violence."

I hope the secret of life is worth having to sit with Fredward Benson for more than two hours.

* * *

**I love Tarantino, and I don't own any of these references. Especially iCarly.**


	2. Inglorious Rock Throwing

I am worried. I'm worried because I've been awaiting the release of _Inglorious Basterds _since I first heard he was writing it, but I know something will go wrong on the way to the theater. Be it our transportation breaks down or the movie theater spontaneously combusts. If we do make it to the theater, I'm sure it will be sold out or the films will spontaneously combust. Or maybe Sam will insist on leaving the movie because she'll have to read subtitles. I should have hope because we're walking and that transportation shouldn't break down in two healthy young bodies. I really hope the transportation won't break down; Sam must have high cholesterol.

Freddie, you shouldn't be worrying this much.

Great! Now I'm referring to myself in the third person, in my mind. I'm insane. Anyway, stop thinking until we arrive at the movie theater. Stop thinking!

I'm just going to succumb to thinking because not thinking causes me to become even more neurotic than thinking does. "Isn't this supposed to be really good?" Thank God Sam spoke; otherwise, I would have turned into my mother.

"Um, yeah, it is." I don't know what else to say so we fall into silence again and nothing could be less fun.

Sam kicks her foot up on my back to tie her shoe, startling me. "What was that?"

"That was partly boredom, partly the need to tie my shoe, and partly the want to start singing right now." I have come to expect the unexpected with Sam over the past few years. "How does that relate to any-" she cut me off by belting out, "What you drinking? Rum or whiskey?"

She continues, but I realize there's no stopping her and I decide sing along, "We were mischievous and you were always wearing black. I was so serious. You know my boyfriend's mother nearly had a heart attack."

"Oh, Freddie, Freddie, Freddie. I can't even begin to…just no. I'll use that later, but right now…no." I realized what I said after her face contorted the same way it does when someone takes nails to a chalkboard, before she failed to complete a sentence.

"I'm embarrassed, but at the same time I'm proud of your restraint and the fact that you know who The Noisettes are, even though that album isn't out in America yet."

"All right then?" She allowed herself a moment to attempt to be polite, but finished with, "Yeah, I don't care." She just shakes her head at me and now I feel even crazier than before. Why you ask? I don't know; I may have picked up the crazy Spencer was putting out.

"Don't you like people to be proud of you?"

"Sure, but I really don't care if you are." Oh, my self-esteem and bruised ego.

"I don't know how I'm not cynical with a friend such as you." She nods her head in agreement and picks up a rock, but I continue, "I guess it's because everything has a silver lining."

She scoffs. "Where's the silver lining when a man is shot to death for no good reason and he leaves behind twelve kids with no guardians because they all died four years earlier in a nuclear holocaust?"

All I can do is drop my jaw. "What Benson?" I stare at her. "So I'm a pessimist and pretty damn cynical, if I do say so myself."

"What is wrong with you? I mean how can you even think of those things?" I can't say I'm shocked though, Sam isn't the type to make you feel good when it isn't entirely necessary.

"I explained: I'm a cynic, unlike you. You, goody-two-shoes, optimistic bastard, you." She pulls her arm back to launch the rock she picked up earlier and I know it will end badly. Why mess with something in its natural habitat, even if its natural habitat could easily turn into a prison cell, am I right?

She throws the rock and it does no harm. It just gets a rise out of a Puckett and a Benson. I admire her arm strength, but I still need to ask, "Why'd you do that?"

"It seemed like fun." We have arrived at the theater and it the lines are long, at least longer than I've seen them since vampires graced the screens with their presence. "Was it fun?" She nods and I worry again. I worry that we won't get tickets. I worry the line will be too long for Sam and she'll force us to leave. Either that or sit down while I get beat up by two bikers trying to take my spot in line. I also worry that my mother instilled her fears in me.

Sam forces me to wait in line with her and let her sit on my back when she gets tired of standing, which only takes three minutes and twenty-four seconds.

The line takes twenty-four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Do the math and you'll find my back was hurting by the time the minimum wage worker asks, "Good evening, how can I help you?"

I grab the money Spencer gave Sam as I say, "Two for _Inglorious Basterds_ please."

"Oh, I'm sorry sweetie, we just sold out." She does nothing but shrug her shoulders at us.

"Oh, ok, thanks anyway." I hand the money back to Sam and she pouts, but doesn't get off my back for the entire walk home. Not even for the elevator ride.

Through Carly's door we can hear Spencer speaking, "So anyway, Socko and I had to go to a Michigan county fair and there was this big emu and I was afraid it would attack me. You know what Carly?"

"What Spencer?" We can hear her ask as Sam opens the door without warning.

"Those fears: totally irrational." I can't help but laugh at Spencer's delivery. "No luck kiddos?"

"Nope, and I had confidence I would get to see it too." Sam takes her seat on the couch, but Spencer's the only one currently showing his resentment for her entitlement problems.

Spencer will probably respond with a nice story, but this comes out of his mouth, "I once had full confidence in a fart. Shit all over myself."

"What?" Carly, Sam, and I all ask in unison.

"It's from a movie."

"Good, I'm glad." Carly says as she makes her way over to Sam. I have the want to ask, "Why don't you love Tarantino?"

"I think he's too violent."

"I think Sam's too violent, but I still enjoy her company as a friend, sometimes." Sam's already dozing off on the couch so she couldn't hear my compliment and insult, apparently being carried is tiring.

"That reminds me, Sam!"

"Shh, Spencer, she's asleep, and don't wake a Sam unless she's on fire!" Carly hisses across the room to Spencer.

"Oh, I guess the secret of life can wait till tomorrow."


	3. Spelunking with Jackie Brown

A zombie is gnawing at my right hand, actually I think it's Samuel L. Jackson in zombie form. Good god, this is disturbing, I think this is a dream, otherwise I'd be a zombie in the future and I'd be kicking some serious zombie ass on my way down.

Thank God, I'm hearing "Across 110th Street" and I'm waking up. Good. Everyone is here. Jesus Christ; Carly and Spencer obviously, but Freddie too. Dammit. Why is he here?

"Spencer," I'm partially quiet at first, I'll raise my voice eventually, "Carly," louder, "Spencer, Carly," louder, louder, "Spencer, CARLY!"

"Jesus Sam is that necessary?" Freddie just has to put in his two cents.

"No, but neither are you, CARLY!" Freddie's face displays anger. "Don't do that, it makes you look like a fish and I would like to have a generally good-looking posse, and when you don't have that facial expression my posse is 70% good-looking. Right now it's less than 66% good-looking because that expression detracts from everyone else's attractiveness, so stop it."

"Ugh, you are truly impossible." Carly still hasn't responded to me.

"That's what I fucking aim for." Freddie is coming close to glaring; I'm not sure what that facial expression is either.

"Hey, hey, hey, little Miss Sam Puckett, no swearing, it's against my code of beliefs. Unless it's entirely necessary, like when acknowledging social injustices and mean people. And when you are incredibly angry."

"Alright, enough already, well at least I have your attention," my head is bent over the back of the couch to get a better look at Carly. She's dusting the stairs, she is cleanly.

"Yes, Sam, you do have my attention and even though this is making me an enabler; what do you want?"

I'll wait a few moments to speak just till Carly starts tapping her foot a little with her hip all cocked and such, "What's for food?"

"I don't know Sam, ask Spencer." She snapped back at me.

"Well, you don't have to get all snippy with me." She's upside down, but I can see an annoyed face.

"I'm sorry; I just really need to get the apartment cleaner."

I stare at her, and Freddie's voice breaks the silence, "Was that you hinting that you needed help cleaning up the apartment? Because, you know, I could help you, if you needed some help."

Freddie opens his mouth once again, but in the true fashion of Spencer Shay, he bursts into the room and exclaims, "SAM! _Jackie Brown_ is on! Look at the television!"

I bend my neck so my head is angled back at the TV. "Aha. Pam Grier? Oh, and Samuel L. Jackson, that must be why he was in my dream."

"That wasn't strange. Wait, _Jackie Brown_? Oh, this is a great movie."

And I'm sucked in once again, until a commercial break, "Jackass television!" I throw a paper plate at the chia pet on the screen.

"SAM!" Carly is once again disappointed. "What?" Stupid Carly-angry-face. "I'm generally mad, and the TV people are mean," she's still staring at me, "fine, fine," I use my best responsible human being voice, "it's unacceptable." She smiles at me.

"Freddie, I could use some help, dusting." He looks back and replies, "But it's _Jackie Brown_, I must watch it, sorry Carly, I can help when it's over though."

She rolls her eyes at what I guess is our worshipping of Tarantino films. "Hurry up commercials; end!"

"I concur," Spencer appears directly behind me.

"Jesus Spence, you scared the living shi-life out of me. Are you happy I didn't swear Carly?" I look at her nodding head dusting in the corner.

"Sorry Sam, I didn't mean to, I just wanted OH, BACK ON! SHUT UP!"

It's nearing the end of the movie when it dawns on me that Freddifer has the privilege of being able to watch these spectacular films with an insane mom. I wouldn't dare interrupt the dialogue to ask such an unimportant question though.

When the commercials interrupt the movie I inquire, "Hey Fredward."

"Hmm?" He barely tilts his head toward me. What could be so engrossing about a yelling dead man in khakis?

"How come you are able to watch this? You know with your mom and all." I'm entirely too hungry, but it must wait till the film ends, you see how important Tarantino is?

"My love for him rests entirely on Spencer's shoulders, I came here one day and he had Kill Bill on and I decided to join him in watching it. I loved it so much, for the obvious reasons. Then, you know, he told me my mother would object and I am a," he checks to see if anyone could hear him and begins to whisper, "bad boy."

I motion for him to come over to me, he obliges, and standing near me I motion for him to come closer, "Sam, you're not going to punch me or something, right?"

"No, of course not," spoken no sarcasm, just disbelief. He slowly moved closer to me until his head was four inches from mine. When I see fit for my spiel to begin I whisper, "You are and you will never be a," I look around to check if anyone would hear me, just like he did, "bad boy."

"I thought you were going to yell in my ear." He chuckles at me, how dare he. "OF COURSE NOT!"

"Ow, that hurt my ear. And your little explanation hurt my feelings," once again, he's oozing out sarcasm. "I can be a bad boy, I just choose not to, most of the time."

"I don't think it's voluntary señorita, you can't be a bad boy for too many reasons."

"You just called me a girl, but I'm sure this will be a list full of blows to my self-esteem." The credits have begun to roll and I also begin rolling off a list.

"First of all, you aren't a guy. Secondly, you're mother and everything she has instilled in you prevents this from being anywhere near possible. Third, you have to be cool to be a bad boy and you ain't. Fourth, you don't have the will power. Fifth, you aren't strong enough for it. Finally, you just don't have **it **in you. Sorry buddy, you just can't handle it."

"That was really insulting, but I should be used to it, right?" I get up to head for the kitchen, where Spencer is trying to climb on the ceiling in spelunking gear. I look back at Freddie to respond, "Right you are."

Fredward's eye catches Spencer, "What are you doing there Spence?"

"I'd like to think of it as an adventure for my imagination, see, I'm not really on the ceiling; I'm hanging upside down in a cave somewhere in Eastern Russia."

"There're caves in Eastern Russia?" I ask Spencer.

"Possibly, I'm not sure though. Oh well." Spencer is a character to say the least.

"That's all you want to know?" Freddie just won't let this slide.

"Yeah, I've come to expect the unexpected here." I look up toward Spencer, "Carly's going to freak when she sees this dude."

"Ah, but dude she won't see it. For I am finished." He executes a perfect landing and asks us what we would rate it.

"I'd give the landing a six. It was a bit sloppy, you didn't stick it."

"Nyuryoku no tame ni arigato," he bows and as do I, "what do you think Freddo?"

"I'd give it an eight, it was a little sloppy, but I commend the fact you didn't bust open your skull."

"Bolʹshoe spasibo Freddi. That was Russian so you know. Watashi mo ikutsu ka no warui nihongo wo hanasu. No hablo español. I do speak English though." He was taking his gear off during his foray into four languages, I think.

"You're so strange." Spencer looked sad again.

"Oh, that reminds me, I have to tell you something! But I forgot, it'll come to me sometime."

"Well, call me when you remember it, I have to go bikini shopping with my mother."

* * *

**I feel no remorse. Estoy consada sin embargo.**


	4. Bathroom Floor Break

**I have an intense love for films and British bands.**

**Something about not owning, but I highly doubt anyone will sue me.**

* * *

I'm sure people have wondered what goes on in my brain, but the truth is that I don't even know.

I do know that my best ideas come to me in the shower so I suppose that taking a shower would help me remember what I was going to tell Sam and Freddie. I know it had something to do with Quentin Tarantino, but I just can't seem to recollect. To help my hippocampus get buddy-buddy with my thalamus I will get in the shower. A little Lily Allen music can't really harm either.

I hear my favorite song by her and I am compelled to sing along with it, "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck ya very, very mu-u-u-u-uch! Holy butter! I remember what I was going to tell Sam and Freddie! This is so exciting!" I jump up and down and drop my soap under my foot which sends me through the fish and turtle shower curtain straight to the bathroom floor.

There isn't much you can do on the bathroom floor. It's quite limited actually; you can lie on the ground and think. The thoughts you can have are not particularly limited, but the physical things you can do are limited. You can think about basically anything. You can wonder if you hit your head too hard, why you're still on the ground, whether or not it would be safe to eat the skittle on the shower curtain next your head, or you can sort through your life's problems.

I chose the first option, but I should be wondering whether or not I want to settle down and have a family. Carly will be out of high school pretty soon anyway and having a mini-me running around couldn't be too bad. All of this is not to worry about at the moment; I remembered the secret of life!

* * *

"My cerebellum feels squishy though and I don't think that's supposed to happen. Oh, hey, I'm still naked. Why am I still on the ground? And talking to myself?"

I look over and all I see is more of Spencer than I have ever wanted to see. "Woah!" I cover my eyes and try to tell my brother he's a little exposed, "Dude, put some pants on. I don't want to see that; we came out of the same birth canal. I share too much with you to ever have any desire to see any of that."

I assume he looked down because he paused and I don't uncover my eyes, "Oh, I guess I'm still naked then."

"I don't hear footsteps, go away, leave my sight, and put on some pants. I don't want to see any more butt blemishes." I finally hear him walk away and I attempt to squeeze the thought of naked Spencer out of my mind. Ew.

"Hey Carls! My-" I interrupt his speaking to inquire as to whether or not he's decent. "Yes, poor Carly eyes, I am decent. So, as I was saying, my head feels squishy and I fell out of the shower and hit the floor hard. I think I may have a concussion or something else equally unappealing."

"Oh, Spencer, how do you manage these feats?" He just shrugs his artistic shoulders and mumbles something about Gibby's stunt double. "Do you think you need to go to the hospital?"

"I don't know, maybe not this time." Oh yes, it does happen quite often.

"Well, just don't go to sleep for a few hours then. Maybe you can watch _True Romance_ or _Death Proof_; they're your favorite sick-day movies."

"But Carly, I'm not sick, I'm just boo-boo-ed, and I need Sam to watch those movies before I can watch them again, I won't feel complete as a human being, I'll be a failure at living." My brother is hard to reason with when he suffers a concussion, especially a bad concussion.

"Come on big brother, we have to get you to a doctor."

"But I want to see the butterflies!"

"Don't get whiny mister!"

"Yes ma'am." that's a good Spencer.


	5. Kill Hospital Gown

**Kill Bill is quite possibly my favorite movie. I really wish I had some right to any of the things I mention in this story.

* * *

**

Sam texts me, "dude we need 2 see some mo tarantino shiznit." I need to text her back to tell her about Spencer's unfortunate fall. "Sam, we can't watch any of his movies because he's in the hospital again and we CANNOT watch them at my house. My mom is supervising me so I won't get a concussion like Spencer did."

Sam replies, "Yeah. no i didn't wanna know that, just like u."

"You're always so careful with my feelings Sam. Where can we go to watch something?" My texts are always spelled better than hers are and I obviously put more care for the person into my texts.

"Take me anywhere i don't care." She's never decisive about these sorts of things, especially through text.

"Thanks for the great decision. You're so helpful." I responded in such a witty manner, I should be called Mr. Witty-pants. Or not.

"Hey fredward the sarcasm wasn't needed. But it's whatever we can go to the hospital. Spencer has to be watching his favorite sick movie-_Kill Bill_."

"Thanks for actually being helpful Sam. We'll have to use public transportation though." She probably won't care.

She replies, "I don't care. Just get here and pay for me i don't have any money on me."

* * *

"Our time spent on the bus was less than fun. She insisted upon yelling at the bus driver to go faster at red lights. Spencer, she's really embarrassing." I'm sure my face was flushed by the time I finished, I know I wasn't breathing.

Spencer was laughing and talking about giant red elves wearing hospital gowns just like him. Meanwhile, Carly wasn't even mildly surprised Sam did it, she was just mad that she did it. "Sam, you know better than that! They kicked you off the bus last time that happened!" She's trying to scold her, but she's failing miserably.

"I'm sorry I yelled at the bus driver, I'll try a little to stop doing that." Sam speaks without emotion, kind of like Ben Stein.

"At least you apologized. That's a start, but we really have to work on your manners." Carly only receives a look of disgust from Sam. "Well, anyway," changing the subject, "Spencer, do you want to watch your sick movie now?"

Spencer is ecstatic, "Silly Carly girl, of course I want to watch my FA-VOR-ITE sick movie! As long as you brought both volumes, otherwise, I want to watch _Little Orphan Annie_."

"Good thing I have both volumes because I don't have _Little Orphan Annie_ with me." Carly whips out the DVDs and a small DVD player only used on long trips to Nebraska.

"Gimme! Gimme!" Spencer stretches his arms toward Carly from the bed.

Carly flicks his forehead, "Spencer! You are a grown man. What's wrong with you?"

"Sorry."

Everything is still and quiet until Sam asks, "Can we just watch the movies already?" She sees Carly giving her a disapproving look and continues, "Not that that was the only reason I came to visit Spencer."

The first movie begins and Carly leaves the room to avoid watching anything that was influenced by Quentin Tarantino. Sam laughs when O-Ren Ishii cuts off a man's head on the crime council and monologues on the table. There are no other noises except for Sam's laughs during slightly inappropriate moments until the movie ends and Sam screams, "OH MY GOD! I NEED to watch more! Give me more!" Sam grabs my shirt and shakes me about.

"Gosh, Sam, quit! This is entirely unnecessary." I try to push her away from me, but a male nurse walking by intervenes.

"Hey, kids! Stop that! Sam! I know you know better." The male nurse yells.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah Steve. Whatever."

"Good. Does your mom ever talk about me?"

"No, Steve, she doesn't talk about you. You dated her for like a week, she doesn't acknowledge ex-boyfriends. Please leave now."

Steve, the male nurse, leaves us in awe of Sam's mom.

"Well, now that I've been embarrassed by mother, can we watch the other movie?"

"Sure Sam, we can totally do that." Spencer puts in the second film and we stare at the tiny screen for hours until The Bride is finally satisfied and it's at least nine. Spencer fell asleep halfway through the film, how could he? It's such a good movie.

"Hey, Sam, look at Carly. She's asleep in the chair near the bathroom."

Sam chuckles, "Yeah, she must really dislike Tarantino's films. You think she'll let me talk about them on the next iCarly?"

"I seriously doubt that she would want that on the web show. She really doesn't like violence."

"Yeah, I know, but I can convince her. In fact, I will."

"You're such a go-getter." I close my eyes while resting on the couch near the window. The vibrating in my pocket wakes me up a little more than I wanted to be.

My phone says: New message from Sam "The Greatest Fa Sho"

"Seriously Sam?"

"Just read it Benson." I oblige and it says: hungry get me food.

"What am I supposed to do about that?" New message from Sam "The Greatest Fa Sho": feed me. I'm hungry.

"Stop texting me, just talk." New message from Sam "The Greatest Fa Sho": no.

"Good God Sam! If I get you some food will you stop texting me when you're two feet away from me?" I watch her text from the other side of the couch. New message from Sam "The Greatest Fa Sho": yuppp.

"Thanks Sam." I feel another vibration in my pocket and yell at Sam, "SAM!"

"That wasn't me."

New message from Mom: There is celery at home. Eat it. Love Mom.

"Sorry Sam."

"You better be. Just get me my food." She pulls me by my ear toward the cafeteria.

* * *

**To All Ya'lls who read this which isn't a lot, **

**I'm incredibly lazy and unmotivated to write this, but it will be finished eventually. I think it's part of being me or my age or my generation. Talking about my generation.**


	6. Cafeteria Romance

"Dude, look at your ear. It's all pinkish." I laugh and Freddie looks a little angry.

"I can't look at my own ear, but it's pinkish because you pulled me by the ear all the way to the friggin' cafeteria! For gross cafeteria food."

"God, don't get your panties all in a bunch Fredward, it's not a big deal anyway." I say as I'm grabbing jell-o and egg salad sandwiches. "Your ear won't fall off because I pulled you here."

"It could have, you could have used seven pounds of force and completely ripped my ear off."

"Quit whining and quit talking all nerdy like," I speak through the half-chewed BLT in my mouth. Freddie looks disgusted with me. "Wha?"

"You have food in your mouth and you're talking."

I respond with even more food in my mouth, "So what of it?"

"Didn't your mother ever teach you to swallow before you start talking?"

"Yeah, she did, but I juf choof to not shwallow."

He chuckles at me, actually chuckles like a mall Santa Claus, and responds sarcastically, "That's such an endearing quality about you. I have no idea why you're still single. It just baffles me."

"It baffles me too, Mr. Condescending."

We reach the cash register and I racked up a total of $30.07. "Jeeze Sam, you have got to be kidding me. How much food did you get?"

"A lot, now pay." He bitches and moans, but gives the money to the slightly overweight cashier with a huge moustache on her face. She's kind of like the bearded lady, at least I think she's a lady.

While I'm eating my mountain of food substances, Freddie puts headphones in and looks at his PearPod. I peak over his shoulder and see Christian Slater talking to Patricia Arquette. I poke his shoulder and pull out his headphones, "What're you watching?"

"_True Romance_-" I cut him off, "Sounds gross and cheesy."

Both his eyebrows go up in confusion. He's making the fish face again. "How could you ever say that? Good God Sam, it's the best romance movie ever, so much better than The Notebook or whatever girls like. Stop making that disgusted face Sam! I bet you didn't even know that it was written by the one and only-drum roll please," he starts drumming his fingers on the table, "Quentin Tarantino!"

I'm stunned to find out that Quentin Tarantino ever wrote a romance film, "Seriously? You're not kidding right?" He shakes his head, "SWEET! Let me watch it with you."

He nods and hands me a headphone. We sit at the table sharing jell-o for almost two hours. Almost two hours of amazing scenes like the one where Drexl asks if it's white boy day today and the scene with Christopher Walken and the Sicilians. A cafeteria lady approaches us while Alabama and Clarence are at the hotel getting shot at, "It's after visiting hours you two. You guys need to leave soon."

Freddie tries to reason with her, "Can we stay for a few more minutes, I promise we'll leave really soon."

Cafeteria Lady stares at us and gives up. She takes my plate though. "Hey Lady! I-" Freddie clamps his hand over my mouth. "Don't make her mad, I can only watch this movie underground because for some freaky reason, my mom can track my PearPod."

"Fimm, buff tae yo hamm off my moufff," he looks puzzled so I lick his hand.

"Ugh, Sam why'd you do that?"

"I said, 'Fine, but take your hand off my mouth.'"

He's making the goddamn fish face again, "So you decided to lick my hand? Actually, never mind, I'm not going to win anyway, so I'll just press play and we can finish watching this in peace." I wonder a little why Freddie would give up so easily. It doesn't give me satisfaction like I want. I think I will address the issue later because _True Romance_ has resumed and there is no reason to interrupt anything that has to do with Quentin Tarantino, not even a fire.

When the film finishes we head back up to Spencer's room, wave goodbye to him, and take Carly back to Bushwell with us. On the bus ride to Bushwell Carly falls back asleep and Freddie and I talk about the next iCarly. It's more of me telling him that we should get Quentin Tarantino to make a guest appearance than him actually talking.

"Sam, I don't think that will happen. Our target audience wouldn't appreciate it as much as you or I would."

"Oh, well then, I think we should make our audience love him. And maybe even make Carly love him too."

He gives me a wary look, "Should I be worried?"

I laugh at his worry, "Of course not Freddie, we'll just tie Carly up and have a super awesome journey through all of his movies and we'll show everyone how fantastic Quentin Tarantino is. It will work so perfectly."

"Sam, I'm sorry, but I seriously doubt that. Besides, we'd have to watch all of his movies and we might not have time to do that before the next web show."

"Oh really, I highly doubt that. In fact, I know that I can sneak you out of your house tonight so we can go see _Inglourious Basterds _and I also know that we can find a way to watch the rest of his films tonight even without Spencer's help."

"Good gracious, you kind of worry me Sam."

"That's good, I should worry you, but tonight will be real fun Homeskillet." Oh, I'm certain tonight will be fantastic.

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**Yeah... **

**I don't have a lot of ambition to finish this, but I swear by the moon and the stars that this will be finish sooner or later. **

**Probably later.**


End file.
